


I'm Your Stylist

by gurajiorasu



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 08:30:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2381753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gurajiorasu/pseuds/gurajiorasu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Good morning, Satoshi,” Masaki said, a little bit muffled because his lips were quivering, “It’s your big day, ne?”<br/>Masaki bowed deep to hide his wet eyes, “I’m your stylist for today, yoroshiku onegaishimasu!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Your Stylist

It was never hard for Masaki to do his job. _Never_. In fact, he loved his job.  
 _It’s fun_ , he would say.

He would pack his brush and palettes with a big grin in his face, imagining what shades of blush he would apply on his client or what kind of suit he would have to deal with.

He would chat happily with his clients, as if they were friends. Mostly, he would be the one to lead the conversation, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t mind at all.

But that particular day, everything was different. He was not happy. At all.  
The moment he heard what his client’s name was, he instantly felt a storm of flashback ambushed him.

 _Ohno Satoshi_ , his client’s name echoed in his head mercilessly. **_My_** _Ohno Satoshi._

Masaki could refuse the job but he didn’t. Because as much as he wanted to wail, he wanted to see Ohno Satoshi, the only man he ever loved with all of his heart.  
Even when it was not the circumstances that he would ever prefer.

Masaki stood in front of the door with his equipments on one hand and his heart on another. He couldn’t bring himself to open the door immediately, for his tears were shed and his body was trembling hard.

He inhaled, exhaled, gulped, and wiped. He slapped himself mentally.  
 _You can do this_ , he scolded himself.

With a last long breath, he turned the knob and walked in.

Ohno Satoshi was already waiting for him.

Masaki’s heart stopped. In his eyes, not even a single strand of Satoshi’s hair was changed.  
Satoshi was still the same man whom Masaki loved years ago. Whom Masaki _still_ loved right then.

Another drop of tear betrayed Masaki. He wiped it, determined to hide any of his sadness from _his_ Satoshi.

 _“Good morning, Satoshi,”_ Masaki said, a little bit muffled because his lips were quivering, _“It’s your big day, ne?”_  
Masaki bowed deep to hide his wet eyes, _“I’m your stylist for today, yoroshiku onegaishimasu!”_

Masaki took a deep breath and straightened up his body. Satoshi’s lips were curled slightly into a subtle smile, so he smiled wide. As wide as he could.  
He pooled all the strength he had. He had to make it perfect. For Satoshi. _His_ Satoshi.

Satoshi was already neat in his best suit. White sleek suit that fitted perfectly to Satoshi’s perfect body. The body that Masaki used to touch with his slender fingers.

Masaki bit his lips, shaking his head to cast away any inappropriate images.  
He sat in front of Satoshi, unpacking his equipment and arranging it to the nearby table.

Masaki brushed the first layer of powder and he already couldn’t take it anymore. He had to speak. He _had_ to.

 _“Would you please let me talk here, Satoshi? I don’t need you to answer, I just want you to listen. None of my words would change anything, anyway,”_ Masaki closed his eyes for two seconds, keeping himself from crumbling down.

He opened his eyes and he heard nothing, so he continued.

 _“I’m sorry, Satoshi,”_ he started, _“I’m sorry that I left you back then, ending everything between us without giving you any option.”_

Masaki gave extra attention to a tiny little scar that adorned Satoshi’s face.

 _“But.. I have no option too, you know. It’s not like I want to leave you,”_ Masaki put a defending words on himself without even realizing it. His heart and mind were already a total wreck that he couldn’t think straight anymore, _“It hurt me - our separation. I thought we would never meet again and it pained me.”_

Masaki picked a darker shade of red and applied it to Satoshi’s cheekbones.

 _“I remembered you insisted that we will meet again,”_ Masaki smiled a bit, _“Oh I remember how you screamed about it on that airport, just when I was about to board the plane.”_

Masaki put a lighter shade of red, treating Satoshi’s face like a canvas. _Canvas_ , something that Satoshi always had with him.  
A stream of memories about Satoshi and his countless canvases poisoned him.

 _“I told you that it might be impossible and to not put your hopes up,”_ Masaki gripped his brush tighter, steadying his hand and fingers, _“But actually I wished that you’re right, that we would meet again. I searched for you once I succeeded to get myself back to Japan. I searched and searched, but you’re nowhere to be found. I started to lose my faith.”_

Masaki brushed a tiny bit of lipstick to Satoshi’s lips, just to make it less pale.

 _“And now, look, Satoshi. You were right. We do meet again,”_ Masaki’s tears were already making a waterfall on his own face, _“But I swear, Satoshi, I’ve never imagined that we would meet in... this kind of.... circumstances.”_

Masaki stood up. He moved to take care of Satoshi’s hair. He tidied it and combed it. He styled it the way he knew Satoshi liked it.

Masaki sniffled and a bit of laugh escaped his lips, _“But I can’t be that egoist, ne? Probably you’re happier now. No, no, I know you’re happier now.”_  
Masaki forced a smile once again, but his tears were never stopped.

Masaki had done his job a million times. He’s pretty liked because he was fast and his clients were always looked pretty. Or handsome. Beautiful. Flawless.

But Masaki knew, none of his client would be able to beat Ohno Satoshi.  
With or without make-ups and styled hair and sleek suit, Ohno Satoshi was already flawless. Perfect.

Especially to Masaki’s eyes.

 _“You’re handsome,”_ Masaki managed to blurt out after a considerable pause. He was already done by then, moving back in front of Satoshi and looking at him, _“So handsome.”_

Masaki’s heart was a mushy pile of scattered pieces by then. He wanted to keep his smile until the end.

But he couldn’t.

He really couldn’t.

Ohno Satoshi - _his_ Ohno Satoshi - was about to have his big day.  
He was already unreachable for Masaki. Of course Masaki couldn’t take it.

He broke down right after he tidied the last stray strand of Satoshi’s hair. He slumped on the floor, hugging Satoshi’s lap as tight as he could.

 _“I wish I searched for you more thoroughly. I wish I put more effort. I wish I could meet you sooner than.. than now,”_ Masaki wailed, _“I wish we could be together again. I wish I could give my apology properly; for leaving you, for making you miserable, for ending everything between us. I wish I could say that I love you. I still do. I still do, Satoshi. I still do...”_

A pair of delicate hands peeled Masaki from Satoshi.

He refused, he trashed around, he screamed his heart out, _“Satoshi! Satoshi!”_

A couple of man took Satoshi away.

Masaki screamed even harder, _“No! No! He’s my Satoshi. MY Satoshi!”_

The delicate hands took him to a warm embrace. Masaki felt a soothing stroke behind his back.  
It was Satoshi’s mother.

_“He’s **my** Satoshi... I love him... I love him..”_

The pretty woman caressed him slowly. She was crying too.  
 _“He loves you too, son. He loves you too. Never even once he stopped loving you.”_

Masaki surrendered, letting the sadness claiming him fully.

Satoshi’s mother led him carefully to Satoshi.

Satoshi was smiling. He was dressed neatly, his face was flawless, his hair was tidy.

He was smiling. Definitely smiling.

In the casket.


End file.
